


Between the Stars

by thememeinator



Category: Free!
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Beach House, Beaches, Bisexual Female Character, Demigods, Drama & Romance, Drunkenness, F/F, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Kissing, Girls Kissing, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 05:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11593509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thememeinator/pseuds/thememeinator
Summary: "Sing me no songs of daylight,For the sun is the enemy of loversSing instead of shadows and darkness,And memories of midnight."--SapphoAfter waking up on a beach remembering only his name, Makoto finds himself thrust into a community of myth, mystery, and passion.





	Between the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> This entire story has been driven by random bouts of inspiration coupled by vacation, my stupid nerd love for Greek mythology, and other incredible writers.
> 
> For the sake of character counts, I'm going to include all thank yous and dedications in the footnotes, so you can skip over my waterfall of emotions and sentimentality and get right to the story. :)
> 
> Long story short, I decided to put one of my longer fics on hiatus after finding myself running into some writer's block.  To change things up, I decided to pursue a different train of thought, with fewer chapters.  Ideally, this story will play out in about three parts, but could end up being more depending on how the story fleshes out!  Due to this, I'm not quite sure how often I will be updating, but I'm aiming for around once a month.
> 
> From the bottom of my heart, thank you so so much to anyone who has taken the time to check out this fic.  As hard as it is to sit down and put my ideas from brainstorming to a draft, it's so wonderful to be able to express my love for such a wonderful show with such an enthusiastic community.  ♥
> 
> Also, I absolutely love gushing with anyone and everyone about Free! (and most anime, tbh), so feel free to reach me at either my [Tumblr](https://thememeinator.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thesleepyanemic).  Thank you again for reading!♥

* * *

"So everything that makes me whole

I give it all to you, my heart and soul.”

\--supercell

* * *

 

Vermillion swirls to crimson in the back of Makoto’s eyelids, before settling to black.  The hushed echo of voices escalates above and around him, leveling out to frantic chatter.

And then, an excruciating light explodes in the center of the darkness, rising up with his surroundings.

“Oh look, he’s awake!” A voice rips through the air, overcoming his ears at an alarming closeness.  He blinks away the blinding, fluorescent auras that immediately assault his vision before focusing on the female hovering near him.           

“Thanks for the fucking status report, Aki.”

Another voice, now male, seems to spit these words into existence as he shoves his hands into his pockets, his figure fully concealed by the unrelenting rays of sun casting overhead.          

Makoto attempts to sit up, nearly knocking heads with the girl before falling back to an unyielding surface of sand.  The woman stumbles backwards in surprise, before being secured by the male, who grabs her from behind.  Makoto shoots upright, arms flailing fretfully with lingering adrenaline.            

“I’m so sorry!  I didn’t mean to—“ Makoto stops short as he does a quick pan of his surroundings. “Is this… am I… are we on a beach?”          

His question immediately answers itself as multiple waves tumble past in his periphery, forcing him to lock eyes with the stranger.  Every part of the man seems distinctly angular, who makes no attempt to soften the piercing glare emanating from deep scarlet eyes.          

“Are you fucking serious right now? _Gods,_ out of all the people who have to wash up—“ He silences with a placating look from the girl—presumably Aki—who has now fully regained her balance.  She kneels next to Makoto, a warm but apologetic smile lighting up her features.           

“Ignore him,” she says as she extends a hand.  Makoto accepts it, only to have Aki immediately flip his palm upwards, where she traces the lines, her forehead creasing in focus.  They sit silently like this, until the man poignantly sighs in aggravation.           

"Damn it Aki, can't you leave that shit to Nao?" He snaps and begins the pace into the shallow breakers, ignorant to it nipping at his ankles.  Her concentration doesn't waver despite the interruption, and another minute passes before she delicately places Makoto's hand on his lap, not appearing particularly phased by the fact that it dwarfs her own.

"He's been teaching me," she laughs, shaking some loose sand from her lap.  Her attention returns to Makoto, who figures his expression must be something to behold if he looks nearly as perplexed as he feels.  Aki takes it in stride, choking on a giggle.           

"He’s just upset because his boyfriend should've been back over an hour ago." Aki whispers this, but her words clearly reach the man, who tosses back a flurry of expletives along with angry splash of water.         

" _Piss off!"_

The tension is palpable, but Aki's grin only seems to grow as briny droplets cascade over her.  She looks back to Makoto, although she’s clearly past the threshold of maintaining a neutral expression.            

"Anyway," she says, "to answer your question: yes, we are on a beach.  It's called Iwatobi West, and it's actually the furthest beach down the shoreline from the town.  We get a few tourists now and again, but…" She shakes her head, struggling to focus.  "We found you out in the water.  Well, _I_ didn’t, but..." Color rises to her cheeks as the correct words continue to evade her.  Makoto goes into a mental frenzy with these new tidbits, but remains silent, entirely unsure if there's anything he even _can_ say at this point.         

"Ugh, I'm awful at this," she sighs with an over dramatic flip of her braid.  "I'm Aki.  And that’s Rin." She gestures dramatically to the man in the surf, who venomously glares in response.           

"Since Aki is abso-fucking-lutely incredible at staying off-topic, _who are you?_ And what the hell are you doing-"        

" _Rin!"_ Aki's playful demeanors falls away, and she shoots him a look that could probably wither seaweed.  Rin appears to pause in his impromptu interrogation, but his seething gaze makes it abundantly clear that he still demands an answer.  Aki turns back to Makoto, her expression crestfallen with unspoken apologies, but he knows that there is nothing within the realm of his own memory that can be said to satiate Rin.          

Answers that should be instantaneous are lost in cerebral mirth, obscured by a fog Makoto himself hadn't realized to be present.  The faces of his family are gone, along with any memory of his home--if he even has one.  The simplest staples of his identity, from his age to his elementary school to his favorite color, seem to be completely absent.  Leaning over this newfound chasm of mental obscurity, only one scrap of information remains certain.          

"Makoto," he murmurs, more to himself than to anyone else.    

"What did you say?" Rin snaps.

The sun appears especially searing as the word swells in his mind, breaking up his vision into splotches.  He can just make out Rin, nostrils flaring in indignation, coupled with Aki, whose expression edges on the brink of panic.      

"Are you okay?" Her voice is urgent, yet sounds like it could be coming from miles away as the splotches spread, chewing up the remaining corners of light.         

"Ma… ko…to…" he rasps as the last of the sun vanishes.  The echoes of a shout resound in his mind, accompanied by the faintest scent of wildflowers.     

But he's probably just imagining it.

 

* * *

 

The light seems softer when Makoto awakens again, breaking and scattering across the walls and floor.  A moment of residual lethargy passes with the realization that he must have been taken inside—though exactly where still remains a mystery.  A familiar face leans over his own, a copper braid dangling from above to caress the curve of his jaw.           

"Oh, thank the _gods,"_ Aki exhales, settling back on a stool that's been scooted up close to his makeshift bedside.           

"The… what?" He sits up slowly, though it feels like a couple of barbells have been strapped to his temples.  The words strike him as odd and nag at him with demanding familiarity, bringing scarlet eyes and friendly expletives to the forefront of his mind. 

Aki's eyes register wide in a quick moment of surprise, and she sucks in her bottom lip as she pieces together a response.

"Thank _goodness._   Thank _goodness_ you're all right," she amends.  She barely sounds certain of her own words, but the gears in Makoto's brain are running far too slowly to process this before a new face comes into view.  A young woman stands to Aki's left, her hand outstretched with a small glass that's sloshing with an ominously dark liquid.

"Drink up," she commands.  Her voice is calm and devoid of Aki's qualms, but her deep brown eyes narrow with concern as he accepts the glass.

A single sip sends Makoto sputtering into a sitting position, which teases a smirk and upturned eyebrow from the unnamed woman.  It isn't until Aki shoots her a weary look that the woman grabs the glass from Makoto's unsteady hand.

"What… what was…" He can barely expel the words over the sensation that he's just swallowed a gallon of paint thinner.

"Kraken," the woman answers plainly as she rests the glass on a nearby table, "special recipe."

"Nii, he was unconscious!  He almost _drowned!"_ Aki is indignant, but she doesn't sound annoyed in the slightest as she addresses the woman.

"I added some water in there too," Nii answers with a shrug.  "Besides, this worked just fine for Rei after his… incident."  Aki throws her hands up at this, provoking a full smirk from Nii.

"Get him something he can _actually drink,"_ Aki sighs.  Nii rises, shaking her head with a small smile before heading away.  Aki looks back to Makoto, who appears even more confused than he was on the shore.

"Sorry about that," she says, a light blush crawling up to her cheekbones.  Makoto tries to smile but shakes his head in spite of himself, desperate to shake the taste of Nii's concoction from his lips.  Aki observes with an apologetic wince, kneading her fingers through her braid as she scrambles for the right words.  "Nii means well, but sometimes she can be…" She trails off, eclipsed by a wistful look.  "Anyway… what do you remember?  Do you remember me?  Or anything from earlier?"

Memories skim along the surface of Makoto's mind, bubbling into form.  The conversation from the beach, however brief, remains crystal clear, but he can feel the ripples of his memory come to a halt as he attempts to search further.   

"I remember you," he says, "and someone else.  Rin, I think?  You're… Aki, right?" Aki smiles, nodding.

"Wow, you have a really good memory," she replies with a sheepish grin. "I was really just rambling at that point.  Another employee found you floating out there this morning.  He brought you to shore and checked that you were breathing and everything, but he had to go take care of some things so Rin and I stayed with you." She pauses, as if trying to recall every last detail from the encounter. "You said your name was Makoto, yes?  At least, I think that's what you said, before…"

She stops as Nii approaches again, this time bearing a glass of water.

"Yes," he affirms, gratefully accepting her new beverage.  He chugs it for a few seconds, appreciating the icy cold as it courses through his chest, but even more thankful for the pause it gives him in Aki’s questions.  As he hands the empty glass back to a mildly amused Nii, Aki apparently sees through his watery ploy.

"Do you remember anything else?  Like, before we found you?" Aki twists a tendril of loose hair around her pinky as Nii strolls over and leans a forearm on her shoulders, which sends a whole spectrum of pink flooding to Aki’s cheeks.

As far as he digs into the deepest recesses of his mind, he finds himself face-to-face with the same impenetrable fog.  His name has not forsaken him, but it appears every other discernible detail about himself has.

"No," he murmurs, further scrunching his eyebrows together. "I don't remember anything.  I don't even know if…" His voice unwillingly stops, forcing his current train of thought to a screeching halt.  Aki nods in sympathy, and to his relief, remains silent.  In a desperate attempt to shake his mind free from its present shackles, he rises and glances around.

They appear to be in some sort of shack--the small size alone proves that it's not as much of a restaurant as it is a hang-out spot.  The walls, floor, and just about every piece of furniture appear to be made out of the same, well-worn, splintering driftwood, while a meager floor tapestry, too smudged with sand and silt to provide a discernible pattern, leads to a bar built into the back wall.  The bar itself isn't particularly significant, except for the three seats that surround it on the left; then again, _seats_ doesn't do the view justice as much as much as the term _swings_ \--only a thick rope, one that looks like it belongs tied on a dock post, is visible, securely attached to the center of a wooden plank.

The seating arrangements facing the front of the bar appear to be much simpler with an odd array of stools, each decorated with its own unique pattern of shells and glass--but by the looks of the spirits stockpiled on the shelves _behind_ the bar, Makoto figures that the glass could just as easily belong to a beer bottle.

Old fishing nets gnarled with hooks drape over two carefully constructed booths, which look to be made of the same drift wood that constructs the rest of the establishment.  Each area looks like it can easily fit a large group, but the locale currently appears rather desolate.  A weathered picnic table lies adjacent to the bench Makoto has been sitting on for the duration of his consciousness; behind this is a smaller table, accompanied by four bar stools that seem identical to the same original craftsmanship of those at the bar. 

The walls are heavily adorned with eclectic collections of art, ranging from doodles of stick figures to complex acrylics of the sea.  A particularly poignant painting is displayed next to Makoto, Aki, and Nii, depicting a shadow of woman amidst the stormy background of an incoming tidal wave.  As the wall tapers off into the doorway, a semi-oxidized anchor, thoroughly encrusted with barnacles, can be seen leaning between the doorway and yet another bench.

For all intents and purposes, this has to be a bar--the scent devoid of oil fryers and the residual aftertaste of Nii's Kraken confirm this enough for Makoto.  His gaze falls back to the two women, who stare back in varying degrees of anticipation. 

"You don't know if what…?" Nii prompts.  Both of her hands massage Aki's shoulders as Makoto bolts to upright attention, altogether unaware of this mental lapse.

"Uh, right…" he stammers. "I don't know if… my parents…if they're…"

Aki and Nii seem to share an uneasy look at these prospects, but refrain from commenting.  Aki clears her throat.

"Your parents?  Do you know where they are?" In character with everything she has said thus far, Aki's light brow is knitted into a concentrated line as she struggles to discern the gaps in Makoto's answers.

He shakes his head.  Any parents, siblings, grandparents… they all seem irretrievable to him, blocked by a doorway that Makoto cannot find, let alone comprehend.  His home, his friends… everything that quintessentially defines _him_ has fallen from his grasp.  As long and far he journeys into the fog, the less that makes sense—he yearns for the words to describe the aching desperation and loneliness that seem to continuously engulf him, squeezing every remaining drop of air from his lungs.  It caresses him, rocking his thoughts back and forth from his temples in a motion reminiscent of pots and pans banging against each other.  The throbbing become so intense that he is unwittingly greeted by the acrid taste of bile rising at the edge of throat. 

He is shaken from the toxic reverie by Aki, whose cool hands soothe the heat pulsing along Makoto's cheekbones.  Her golden eyes remain locked on his as she issues the command to Nii.

"Go get Kisumi."

 

* * *

A half hour passes before nearly half a dozen other people amass the beach shack.  Aki remains next to him while Nii wanders back to the bar, where she begins pouring and mixing various unlabeled bottles.  Makoto figures he'll have nightmares if thinks on the bottles' contents for too long, and allows himself to be swept up in Aki's fast-paced small talk; although, by the time everyone communes in one of the booths, he isn't altogether certain if should feel relieved.

Sitting in such close quarters allows Makoto to get a better look at the new arrivals, who appear as varied as the shack's décor.  Aki sits at the end of the booth, her canary-yellow sundress riding up to the middle of her thighs, exposing leather gladiator sandals cracked with age.  Nii has a chair pulled next to her, content to use Aki's lap as a makeshift footrest for her well-worn combat boots.  She's nursing a whiskey, and clinks glasses the girl across from her, whose maroon hair is tied back in a ponytail that sways along the center of her back.  Everything about her looks vaguely familiar, and it isn't until he shifts his gaze an inch over that he realizes why.

Rin sits hunched over, his dark hair parting over the bridge of his nose as he glowers at anyone who dares to make eye contact.  The meager light from the wall lamp even seems to shrink away from his gaze, building an ethereal glow around the figure next to him.  Unruly blonde hair frames a heart-shaped face, as sparkling eyes lock with Makoto's in a mischievous gleam.

“Don’t even think about it,” orders a voice to his right, deadpan.  His hair is dark, unkempt like the blonde’s, but the man has an air of authority that the blonde lacks—though at the present, his sights appear to be solely on the silver-haired man beside him.  Where the brunette is tempestuous, the silver-haired man is cool, his green eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he greets Makoto with a gentle smile. 

The din of conversation falters as a new man approaches the booth.  Unlike the rest of the group, he makes no move to sit, instead choosing to lean against the far side of the bar.  Aviators mask his gaze before he takes them off, nimbly clipping them on the front pocket of a light pink polo shirt.  While the group appears to be in various layers of disarray, he is immaculate, appearing almost oblivious to the crowd he has inadvertently joined.  Strawberry blonde locks fold slightly into center of his forehead, carefully styled to avoid sweeping into his lavender eyes, which now happen to be looking directly at Makoto.  The stranger winks playfully, striding to the table while Makoto struggles to stop the heat that’s suddenly spread like wildfire to every inch of his skin.

All talking ceases as the well-dressed man leans on the table, nearly bumping elbows with Nii as he surveys the group.  His gaze halts as he views Makoto once more, and his thin lips upturn in the slightest of smirks.  Leaning back, he rubs his hands together, spurning an anticipation that turns Makoto’s stomach to ice.

“Good afternoon folks,” the man says. “Sorry about the random staff meeting, but certain… _circumstances_ have come to my attention that need to be addressed.”  An audible huff can be heard from Rin, who is immediately silenced by a sharply cleared throat.

“ _Anyway,_ ” he continues, “as I’m sure you all have noticed by now, we have a special guest—quite the rare specimen, so I’ve been told.” He winks again at Makoto, who isn’t sure his cheeks are able to turn a deeper shade of red.  “Due to a… messy turn of events, I think a few propositions are in place.” 

Makoto’s present confusion appears to be irrelevant as the majority of the group nods in understanding.  The man turns to him, violet eyes shining.

“I hate to ask this, but would you mind stepping outside?  Administrative processes here can get quite _vocal_ , and from what I’ve been told, you’ve had quite the eventful day already.” The man doesn’t wink this time, but with the unrelenting glimmer in his eyes Makoto figures that he has no need to.  With the quickest nod and agreeable grunt that he can muster, Makoto half-walks, half-stumbles out the front of the shack.  Although Makoto scarcely touches it, the wooden door closes on its own, sending a spray of displaced sand into his eyes.

There’s too much going through his mind for him to really consider it odd against everything else he’s seen and heard so far, so he sets the thought aside as he rubs his eyes, struggling once again to get his bearings.

He can see the beach from the entryway, scores of minuscule waves surging forward and dissipating into foam as they slowly ebb into high tide.  The shack itself is on the far side of the beach, built into jetties of sea rock.  Loose chunks of stone, fallen away or eroded by the passage of time, stack around the perimeter, forming a makeshift wall.

While sand extends to the shack’s entrance, special care has been taken to etch a centered path, where sandstone is imitated to extraordinary detail.  Makoto kneels, softly tracing the grooves, only to find soft, tightly-packed grains of sand powdering the tip of his index finger.  Similar intricate etchings line the walls, he realizes, rising to a crouching position next to the carefully placed stones.  Much of the sea-rock is empty, but several carved stones construct the center of the wall, fanning upwards to the uneven top ledge of stone.

A design of a heart, pierced through its center with an arrow, can be seen on the keystone, with other extensive designs blooming from all around it.  One stone depicts a series of waves on the cusp of breaking, the design nearly overflowing onto its neighboring stone, which proudly displays a treasure chest.  Scattered among other rocks are images of blossoms, footprints, a scroll, and an outstretched hand, leading to the bottom, where a stone astutely bearing the image of an anchor holds up the expanse of carvings.  Beneath the anchor is yet another design, the etching so embossed into stone that Makoto almost misses it: a dolphin.

He mindlessly traces its dorsal fin, impressed by its humble design, only to find the stone darkened by a looming shadow.  Startled, Makoto jumps, his head nearly colliding with the wall as he stumbles back to the sand.  The shadow’s owner has no reaction, or is excellent at exhibiting no emotion as several rays of afternoon sunlight bring his face into Makoto’s view.

Black hair glows almost violet under the sun, drifting lazily across fair skin magnified by startlingly blue eyes that shine more clearly than just about anything Makoto’s seen tall day.  He could spend an hour lying there, struggling to conjure up the names of blue hues that he has long forgotten, until the stranger’s upturned eyebrow sends Makoto on a course of humiliated introspection.  He scrambles to his feet, brushing the wayward grains of sand from his shorts as he brings his eyes up to the stranger’s with hesitation.

“I’m sorry! I was just standing…no, I mean waiting out here.  A man.  There’s a staff meeting—I mean, that’s what _the man_ said, and—“

A ghost of a smile plays upon the stranger’s lips, but he makes no move to interrupt.  Makoto pauses, idly curious if there are any negative side effects to blushing so much in a single day.  He can feel his pulse soaring in his chest, coursing through his veins with an electrifying surge that intensifies with each passing second he lingers in the presence of this nameless man.  He exhales, hoping he can get his thoughts to reach some level of coherency before he swallows his tongue altogether.

“So… um, do you, uh, work here?” Makoto asks.  The stranger’s expression remains deadpan as he regards the question, his gaze shifting downwards to the faint outline of the dolphin design.  He lingers in silence, leading Makoto to wonder if his question was even audible, before the man looks up again, slightly pensive.

“Yeah.”

Viewing his one-word answer to be sufficient, the man goes silent, his gaze falling along the carved sand to the closed door.  His eyes lift to the door when Rin’s shout can be heard through the seams of driftwood outlining the shack.

“ _No fucking way!”_

A mass of chatter breaks out, settling to a din as the outburst dies down.  Makoto feels his anxiety climaxing as he paces, and jumps nearly a foot in the air when the strawberry-blonde opens the door a crack and sticks his head out.

“Come on in, kid,” he commands playfully. “We’re ready for you.”

He disappears about as quickly as he pops up, but the door remains slightly ajar, as if extending a hand of invitation.  Uncertainty clutches Makoto’s throat like a vise, and he turns to the stranger, desperate for any fragment of wisdom he can get his hands on.  The man only nods, as if gesturing Makoto forward, his azure eyes glimmering with something Makoto can’t quite put a finger on: encouragement? Hope?

The only thing more awkward than keeping the group inside waiting, Makoto realizes, is maintaining steady eye contact with this man.  His fingers grazing the door handle, he breaks his gaze away, struggling with the few milliseconds he has left to prepare for whatever’s coming next.

For all intents and purposes, not much has changed when Makoto re-enters, aside from the fact that the group has shifted to the picnic table parked near the door.  A narrow, ivory candle sits lit in the center, casting a warm glow upon the surrounding group.

Makoto approaches the front of the table, his gaze flickering down to Aki in the hopes that something, anything, will start to make sense.  Her expression appears inscrutable, as do the other faces that line the benches, minus the strawberry blonde who sports a wide grin as steps to stand next to Makoto before the group.

“Sorry about that,” the man says.  “You can blame all of the meetings and whatnot on company policy.  Your name’s Makoto, yes?  I’m Kisumi.”  Before Makoto can even nod in response, Kisumi has clasped Makoto’s hand between his own.

“Word on the street is that you aren’t quite up-to-date on your emergency contacts,” he continues, “or much else, really.  Care to comment?”

Makoto feels that he should feel bothered by Kisumi’s directness, but instead he finds it rather refreshing after the day he’s had.  He nods, feeling like it’s all he can really muster at this point.  Kisumi purses his lips—he’s clearly expected this answer, but that’s not why over half a dozen people have gathered by candlelight in the middle of the afternoon.

“Be that as it may, I’d like to formally offer you a job.  At least for the time being, while your memory’s off on its mini-vacation,” Kisumi says. 

“A job? Y-you mean, here?  At the shack?” Makoto prompts.  The blonde, now crammed in the middle of one of the benches, chortles at this, before being elbowed into silence by the brunette.  Kisumi stifles a laugh, and casually wraps an arm around Makoto’s shoulder.

“The official name is Cythera’s Cove…but yes!  Nicknames are good. Nicknames add character.  See, you’ve got the right idea.” He pauses, thoughtfully tugging at this lip with his free hand. “But the thing you gotta understand is, this job comes with a shit-ton of caveats.  Even as a part-timer.”

Makoto isn’t sure whether he should apologize or just accept Kisumi’s proposition, and doubts plague his immediate thoughts, sending his brain into autopilot. Is it really wise of him to accept any kind of job, considering his presently lackluster state of mind?  Maybe it would be wiser to cut his losses and search the nearest town for the proverbial trail of breadcrumbs for his identity.  This humiliating day, from amnesiac start to finish, can end, and he doesn't have to spend any more time around the people who have seen him passed out—twice.

But all words lodge in his throat as his eyes sweep over the the table, meeting with the friendly gazes of those gathered.  Could there really be that much harm in joining these people, if only for a few days?

“Caveats?” Makoto asks, his brow furrowing in slight concern.  Kisumi beams, pulling his arm from around Makoto’s shoulder to extend into a handshake.

“First of all… do you accept the offer?” Kisumi’s question is simple enough, but the amount of antics Makoto has witnessed in this day alone is enough to fill his chest with an uneasy hesitation.

“Yes.”

Makoto accepts Kisumi’s hand with a firm shake of his own, prompting a growing smirk from Kisumi.  Internally Makoto questions if he’s made the right decision, but the time for that line of thinking is far gone, and everyone knows it.  He gestures to the back of the room.

“Nii, get the lights!” Kisumi’s voice drips with exuberance as Nii follows suit, ducking back somewhere near the bar.  In the span of a few seconds, the room plunges into darkness, illuminated by the weak point of candlelight.  Shadows blend together, and Makoto has no clue if Nii has even returned when Kisumi grabs his arm, yanking him towards the flame.  Around the table, dull voices chant what sound like meaningless words, their volume falling to a murmur as Kisumi begins to speak.

“Do you promise to protect and serve this establishment with your life, as long as you remain employed here?”

“Yes.”

“Do you swear to keep all matters divulged among this group to the utmost secrecy?”

“I swear.”

“Will you keep your employer and fellow employees updated with any change in the status of your romantic and/or sexual relationships?”

“Ye… wait, what?”

The candle extinguishes in a sudden gust of air, and Makoto squeezes his eyes shut as the draft skirts past his lashes.  A frenzy of activity bubbles around him, and the space behind his eyelids lightens as the room is given a reprieve from its darkness.  He opens his eyes.

A shriek escape his lips as he sees Rin standing before him, a knife clutched haphazardly between two fists.

Makoto falls back into a laughing Kisumi, who sets Makoto upright before applauding slowly.  Each person shuffles back to their original place at the table, including Rin, who drops the knife on the tabletop with an uneasy clang.

“I officially establish Makoto, no surname known presently, to be an official employee and part-time slave of Cythera’s Cove!” Kisumi states.  Everyone claps in response, even Rin, who appears to be slamming his palms together once or twice in required decoration.

“Uh… did you just say official twice?” Makoto asks as he eyes the knife, still struggling to get his pulse under control.  Kisumi only shrugs.

“Congrats kid,” he answers. “You’re hired.”

“But… what am I doing?”

Everyone in the room seems to exchange a collective look, which is topped off by a playful grin from Kisumi, who points to an empty place on the bench.

“Sit down,” he states, the laughter fading slightly from his eyes.  “It’s time for orientation."

 

* * *

The chaos embroiling the room seems to have disappeared entirely as Kisumi commences the discussion, his eyes locked on the snuffed candle as he speaks.

“Riddle me this: what’s two plus two?” Even with the spectacle he’s just witnessed, Makoto swears he can see the relevance flying over his head, fading along with any fragment of sense he had hoped to be remaining at the table.  The faces surrounding him are rendered emotionless, as if Kisumi had just questioned him about the origins of the universe.

“Four?” He replies, certain that he is correct on at least this bit of information.  Kisumi nods, apparently comfortable with the simplicity of the answer.

“Good,” he says. “You still remember the basics.  You’re gonna need that if you want to have any chance of understanding what I’m about to say next.” Makoto’s stomach churns at the prospect.

“What do you mean?  What am I… is this—“

“Relax, kid,” Kisumi soothes.  “You’re not in any trouble.  Hell, I just hired you, didn’t I?” He chuckles at his own quip, but Makoto is not amused.

 “But you never even explained what I was doing!  I’m only staying on until I get my bearings, and figure out where my family is, where my _home_ is…”

Nii sighs, an irritated eyebrow twitching as she rests her elbows on the table.  While Kisumi seems to thrive on theatrics, she looks entirely weary from the afternoon’s ordeal.

“Have you ever heard of the gods?” she asks. “Y’know, Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Hera…” Her voice trails off as she leaves Makoto to his own devices.  If his memories are locked in some mental safe, Nii has delivered a swift kick to the proverbial lock, jostling a few scraps of paper through the cracks.  Images, ranging from portraits to statues to photographs, fly through his mind, mostly consisting of dusty tomes and gilded artwork.  Words and phrases scale the walls of his brain, emerging from the mental museums they had been stored in, sliding to the forefront of his mind.  Nii’s question plays through his head on repeat, like a needle buffering along a scuffed record.

Recollections from earlier in the day flood his mind, centering around some of the first phrases he had heard Rin and Aki utter upon separate occasions.  The conversations feel jumbled now, but one word lines up in crystal-clear resolution with Nii’s statement: gods. 

However they had meant to use it, the word had been entirely intentional—but Makoto wasn’t quite privy as to why.

“Yes,” he says, “I’ve heard of them.”  Nii sighs in relief, and shifts her weight off the table.

“Good,” she remarks, a coy smile tugging at the corners of her lips.  “Then maybe this next part will be easy for you to understand.” Makoto’s head reels, a thousand possible answers flashing through his mind.  Whether it’s a tug in his gut or the slightest inkling lingering in the back of his thoughts, he can feel his resolve begin to crack, as impossibilities stack upon themselves like boulders.

“They’re real.”

Makoto knows that he had expected some form of these words, at least to some degree, but the sheer finality of them leaves little room for doubt. Everything has happened so fast, and these people have been nothing but helpful, if not slightly strange.  In the span of a few hours, he’s been offered hearth, home, and employment as he ventures to reclaim his identity.  These people have absolutely no reason to lie to him, and in the very depths of his chest he knows this to be true—but he can’t just accept this on the drop of a dime.  Not yet, at least.

“You mean, metaphorically?  In books, a-and, you know...” He can hear his voice teetering off into silence, but Kisumi doesn’t seem to notice as he takes the reins once more.

“In a sense, maybe,” he concedes. “But we’re not throwing around philosophical inquiries here.  We’re talking about real, one hundred percent, bonafide deities.”

Makoto can’t even begin to imagine the look on his face, but it earns a grin from Nii and a sympathetic chuckle from Aki.  Kisumi takes Makoto’s silence in stride, perfectly content to continue.

“We’re all descendants of the gods… in one way or another.” He winks at Makoto, who can feel his heart leap to his throat.

“H-hang on a second,” he begins.  “Are you trying to tell me that you’re… Zeus?  O-or…”

The room explodes with laughter, Kisumi’s being the loudest as leans back and guffaws into the open air above him.  Nii looks ready to interject with an explanation, but he holds up a hand to silence her.

“You trying to suck up to me, kid?” he asks. “Because it’s _totally_ working.” He dissolves into a fit of laughter again, before attempting to contain himself when he views Makoto’s expression of confusion.

“I’m not Zeus,” he reaffirms with a straight face.  “He is my grandfather, though.  Or so I’ve been told.  He sucks at remembering my birthday, though.”

Makoto shakes his head, kneading his temples with his thumbs in hopes that he can physically engrain this new information into his skull, somehow.

“You can’t expect me to believe all of this,” he says, more to himself than anyone directly.  Kisumi shrugs in response.

“I don’t care what you think, kid,” he says.  “But seriously—I’m not Zeus.  I’d’ve thrown a thousand thunderbolts around by now if I could.  Or turned into a swan and—” He stops short upon receiving several looks of warning from the others at the table—except for the blonde, who nearly starts rolling on the floor in laughter.

“T-then… who are you?” Makoto stammers, the words falling over one another as he struggles to summon the courage to utter them.

“I told you, didn’t I?  I’m Kisumi,” he answers with a playful wink. “But for the sake of logistics…” He rises, and slides the aviators from his front pocket onto the bridge of his nose. “Eros, at your service.  Well… I guess you’re more at _my_ service, but…” He pauses before clasping his hands together. “How about we start with some introductions?  Unless you have more questions, of course.”

Makoto could probably list a thousand questions right then and there, but he simply nods in agreement—if he starts any line of questioning, he knows there’s a very good chance he’ll be unable to stop.  Kisumi smiles, apparently content with this answer.  He points to Rin, who sits to his right.

“Rin!  How about you start us off?” Kisumi rubs his hands together and sits as Rin rises, directing the most toxic eye roll he can muster in Kisumi’s direction.  Kisumi appears either oblivious or simply doesn’t give a shit, as he motions for Rin to begin.

Rin stands up, shooting sequential icy looks to Kisumi and Makoto.

“I’m Rin.” He sits back down, taut muscles protruding like rope from his crossed forearms as he seats himself again.  Decidedly underwhelmed, Kisumi shakes his head, gesturing an invitation to whomever feels compelled to follow such a performance.  The silver-haired man takes the initiative, rising in turn with the brunette, who is quick to follow suit.

“I’m Nao,” he says, extending a hand to wave.  “It’s nice to see a new face around here.  I work—“

“ _We_ work beach patrol,” the brunette interjects, taking careful note as the corner of Nao’s mouth quirks into a smile, before realizing he has yet to introduce himself. “Natsuya. A pleasure.” The two sit down in tandem, as the blonde pops up, his smile crackling with energy.

“Nice to meet you Mako-chan,” he says with a grin, a latent giggle further embellishing the impromptu nickname. “I’m Nagisa!  I kinda just do whatever I’m asked to do, whenever I’m asked to it!” He seats himself once more, cocking his head with a playful beam. “It’s pretty fun~!”

A collective groan overtakes the room.

“I’m sure it’s a blast, when your hearing is selective as shit,” Kisumi comments idly. “When exactly were you planning on re-painting the cove’s sign?  Or collecting more wood for the fire pit?  Or sorting out whatever the hell is going on with the lifeguard’s paychecks?” Natsuya and Nii snicker as Nagisa’s face blanches, rendering him effectively silent.

The woman with the low-hanging ponytail uses Nagisa’s torment as a transitional springboard.

“My name’s Gou,” she says, taking special care to emphasize the hard consonant at the word’s beginning. “I work security, and a few odd jobs here and there.” She glances to Nagisa. “Half the time I’m just tracking _his_ ass down.” Nagisa haplessly shrugs at this and whistles some mundane tune, earning him a swat on the head from Natsuya.

“And you already know me,” Aki adds with the slightest of winks. “I’m the main waitress here.  Or…” She taps a finger on her chin thoughtfully. “Would barista work?”

“Hell no,” Nii answers, shoving Aki playfully before looking back to Makoto. “I’m the bartender.  All drink orders, drink ideas, drink ingredients…” She pauses for dramatic effect. “They all go through me.”

Makoto isn’t sure if it’s unease or pure fear that sends a slight wave of nausea churning through his stomach.

“Are we done?” Rin’s voice is clipped but surprisingly free of expletives.  Kisumi peers out the front window before nodding.

“Yeah, sure.  You better go with him, Gou.  The tide’s coming in, right?”

Rin needs no further invitation to swing his legs over the bench and make his exit, the door slamming as he shoves it behind him.  Gou wearily stares at the door for a moment before standing up herself, her thick ponytail swingming with the motion.  With a mock salute to Kisumi, she bows out of the Cove, keeping to door slightly ajar as she exits.

Natsuya and Nao duck out shortly after, excusing themselves with their need to do a litter check along the shoreline.  Makoto has absolutely no clue what kind of pollution could have struck the beach during this short staff tête-à-tête, but decides that he is altogether content with not knowing as Natsuya playfully slaps Nao’s ass by the doorway.

Nagisa seems all-too-acclimated to such interactions, but laughs heartily while Aki and Nii exchange auspicious looks of their own.  The room seems to fall into a temporary silence as the conversation lulls, only to be immediately resuscitated by Kisumi, who looks pointedly to Aki.

“Whaddya say you and Nii take our newest recruit for a quick tour?  Give him the lay of land—slim as the property may be at present,” he says. “ _Nagisa_ has some firewood to collect.” Upon hearing his name, Nagisa pops up and darts out the door, with a “See you later Mako-chaaaan~!” floating through the stagnant air as he leaves.  Kisumi shoves his aviators up the bridge of his nose, apparently content.

“I’ll be around,” he comments with a wave of his hand. “Just text me if you need anything.  Or holler. Or leave a blood sacrifice in the fire-pit to summon me—as soon as Nagisa gets back with the firewood, that is.” He pops out the door with an absent-minded wave, leaving the sensual undertones of vanilla cologne in the air behind him.  Makoto is almost completely certain that his jaw has fallen as far as it possibly can, which Aki acknowledges with a giggle.

“He’s kidding,” she reassures, reaching over to give Makoto a few supportive pats on the back.

“Only about the wood part though,” Nii adds with a smirk. “Sacrifice anything in the fire pit and he’ll show up in two seconds.  Or less.”

Horribly ill-equipped to tell if she’s joking or not, Makoto attempts to swallow the gulp teetering in the back of his throat as he goes to follow them.

 

* * *

 

 

The blue-eyed stranger has vanished by the time the three of them emerge from the Cove, without leaving as much as a footprint.  Makoto squints at the expanse of sand, desperate for any lingering clue to his whereabouts, only to feel Nii’s gaze boring holes into the back of his head.  He quickly pivots to face the stone etchings, praying that Nii doesn’t ask any questions.

Then again, if everything he’s just learned is true, then he probably shouldn’t be relying on prayer as default anymore.  Any scenario that results with Kisumi perusing his innermost thoughts… Makoto shudders at the idea.

“I like the designs,” he hastily comments.  His fingers seem to gravitate to the dolphin, searching for the outline that time has reduced to only a slight groove. “Did you guys make them?”

Aki nods as she kneels beside the stones, stroking the carving of a lotus blossom with a far-off smile.

“Kind of,” she answers. “Every full-timer adds a design to the wall once they’re hired—see, this one’s mine.” She points to the flower. “It’s super simple, but it’s supposed to represent my mom.”

Kisumi’s words from the prior conversation toll in the distant corners of his mind: _We’re all descendants of the gods… in one way or another._

“Your m-mom?” he stammers. “You mean, she’s—”

“Thalia,” Nii cuts in, “the goddess of the blooming sea.  She’s one of the fifty goddesses of the sea—Nereids, to be specific.” Each new piece of information dives for a spot in Makoto’s barren memory, making him yearn for some kind of reference guide to the myths he seems to be lacking.  Then again, he wonders if the word myth even _applies_ anymore.

He must look as baffled as he feels, earning him a sympathetic smile from Aki.

“A lot of us are descended from that line,” she adds. “Though my inheritance has less to do with the ocean as much as the vegetation that grows in and around the ocean, y’know?”

Makoto has absolutely no clue, but he nods along anyway.  While accepting everything as it’s presented to him seems like the best plan at this point, part of her last statement clutches uncomfortably to the forefront of his thoughts.

“Inheritance?” he asks, feeling his forehead wrinkle with the question.  At this rate, he’s bound to have several permanent crease-lines before the end of the day.

“Um…” Aki frowns, looking to Nii for guidance with his inquiry.

“It’s just an easier way to say gifts, or powers, if you will,” she supplicates. “The strength and prominence of your inheritance depends on your bloodline, mostly.  There are other things that can factor in, but…” She pauses, nibbling her bottom lip in concentration. “…it really depends on the person.  Kisumi’s the strongest, since he’s a full-blown god and all.”

“So he’s… I mean, he’s seriously _the_ Eros?  The god of sex… and stuff?” Aki and Nii exchange a smirk at Makoto’s question.

“He is,” Aki replies. “But you’ll find it’s something you have to see to believe, really.”  Recollections of blood-pumping, skull-incinerating flushes return to Makoto’s mind, threatening to return his cheeks to the same shade of crimson.  He turns to the wall, desperately looking for a change in subject.

“So, uh… do you have a stone on here, Nii?” His eyes scour the collection, attempting to guess the answer for himself before he sees Nii’s hand extend to stroke the image of a scroll.  Entirely unsure if this should bear any significance to him, he looks to Aki for help.

“Nii’s the daughter of Calliope,” she explains, a proud beam growing on her lips. “She’s one of the nine Muses—her specialty is in epic poetry.” She looks up at Nii, an almost wistful look encapsulating her features. “Nii’s an absolutely _incredible_ writer—she writes the most _amazing_ Trojan War fan fiction, it’s—”

“Not relevant to this discussion,” Nii briskly interrupts, but Makoto can detect the edge of a blush skirting around the tips of her ears. “There’s _much_ more interesting things going on the beach right now, anyway.”

The two lead the way, Makoto in tow, as they enter the encroaching tide.  Aki appears immediately at home among the surf, splashing a far less enthused Nii as the sea surges past their knees.  Every ounce of his being longs to feel at home here, comforted by the cathartic harmony of ocean and breeze, only to be anchored back to intense uncertainties.  Regardless of whether or not he can remember, Makoto was found here, _rescued_ even, saved from an incomprehensible fate.  Ocean gods and goddesses aside—hell, _all_ gods and goddesses aside—there was no answer, no solution that the sea could give him that doesn’t seem to demand the ultimate price in return.

His eyes follow the stretching tide, admiring its thin splay across tightly packed sand, before realizing that the water has nearly reached the entrance wall for the Cove.  Pure panic pushes him forward to Aki and Nii, who seem to pay no mind to the situation as they idly bask in the waning afternoon rays.  Their eyes widen as he stumbles over, nearly doing a face plant in the waves, before securing his flailing limbs.

“Is everything okay?” Aki prompts, concern furrowing her brow.

“The tide!  The Cove!  I mean, _the tide_ is going to come in _at the Cove_ , it’s gonna flood, and—”

Aki and Nii exchange yet another confused look before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

“I-I’m not kidding!  It’s—the water—it’s—”

“ _Relax_ ,” Nii regards his panic with a playful shake of her head. “Do you seriously think the Cove would’ve been built in the middle of the beach if we didn’t have _some_ way to deal with the tides?” She points to an expansive jetty in the distance, stretching perpendicular to the shoreline.  Two figures can be seen near where waves crash against the cliff side, the surf easily reaching their chests as they stand among the rising water.

Nii preemptively shushes Makoto, who can feel a torrential amount of potential responses about to spew from his lips.

“Rin and Gou are out there,” Aki explains. “You could consider them the bouncers for the Cove.  But instead of containing people…”

Makoto peers out past azure breakers, his pulse thrumming against every nerve in his body as he waits for the humble seaside shack and its primitive wall encasement to be swallowed by the sea.  This watery fate is not met, however, as the incoming waves arc around the Cove, leaving the intricate sand path and a surrounding semi-circle of sand outside of the wall’s enclosure completely dry.

Makoto doesn’t even feel his shorts get soaked as he falls butt-first into the water.

“They contain the tide…” he murmurs, entirely uncertain if the words leaving his lips are his own, and not some trance that’s been cast upon him.  Nii doesn’t give him the chance to ask questions before delving into her own version of an explanation.

“Rin and Gou are both children of Oreithyia,” she says, “the goddess of raging waves.  As soon as they made payroll, Kisumi set them to work out here.  Then again, they’ve been here the longest, so I guess that makes sense.”

As the tide temporarily retreats, Makoto launches himself back to standing from the wet sand, still ogling at the sight before him.

“So they can… control waves?  Does that mean they can create them, too?” he asks.  Aki shakes her head as she mulls over the question.

“They can,” she concedes. “But never for anything super intense.  However strong any of our inheritances are, they come with certain restrictions.”

“Some more than others,” Nii adds with a roll of her eyes.  Aki grins, and ankles a splash in her direction.

“People like Nii and I aren’t really given a second glance,” Aki continues. “There’s no imminent upset to the balance of sky and sea that we could really cause.  But some others can really pack in a punch.” She tosses a playful wink in Makoto’s direction.

He sputters something unintelligible, but manages to regain some semblance of composure as he spots Rin and Gou heading towards them—though heading might not be as accurate of a word as _surge,_ as foamy waves crest alongside them with increasing urgency.  By the time they shallow breakers, the wave cascades through them, nearly knocking Makoto in a faceplant once more.  A last-second wrist grab from Aki prevents him from soaking his shorts twice in one day, though Rin appears less-than-impressed.

“Everything go smoothly?” she asks, a cheerful smile brazenly contrasting Rin’s scowl.  He rolls his eyes before heading in the direction of the Cove, which is now fully isolated from the surf.

“As always,” Gou replies.  She flashes a grin to Makoto, who is still entirely unsure that he’s capable of standing on his own two feet in the ocean. “How’s your first day going, newbie?”

“I’m still learning the lay of everything,” he laughs, anxiety prickling down his spine as he takes in Gou’s exorbitantly upbeat features.

“You’re _still_ getting the tour?” Her jaw is slack, until she glances to Aki and Nii.  A smirk twists through her lips, earning a blush from Aki and look from Nii that could shatter a rum bottle.  Gou looks back to Makoto, struggling to suppress a giggle that’s bordering on maniacal. “Sorry.  It’s just that you’ll find any task spearheaded by these two can run quite longer than usual.”

“They’ve been very thorough!” Makoto insists.  As the words leave his mouth, Gou erupts in a full gail of laughter.  She dutifully ignores Aki’s pointed sigh before calming slightly, chuckles still bubbling under her breath.

“I’m sure they have,” she answers in as deadpan a tone as she can muster.  With yet another mock salute, she exits, either oblivious or entirely uncaring to Nii and Aki’s seething glares.  Confusion floats like endless fog through Makoto’s brain, before reaching a brilliantly brief flash of light.

“Wait… are you two…?” He doesn’t even get to finish his question before Nii kicks the water, giving him a mouthful of brine.

“I’m surprised it took you that long to figure it out,” Aki answers with a beam as she placates Nii with a quick kiss on the cheek.  Nii turns away, but not before Makoto spots the faintest wisp of a smile ghosting her lips.

“On that note,” Nii suggests, “let’s finish up around here.  There’s several shots of whiskey back at the Cove with my name on them.  Once I pour them, that is.”

“Nii, it’s only 2:30!” Aki squawks in indignation, earning her a playful swat.

They continue their mindless banter as they leave the grasps of the incoming tide, as if their conversation with Gou never even occurred.

The rest of the tour appears rather uninteresting compared to their run-in with Gou and Rin, as Aki and Nii lead him away from the ocean to the spread of beach stretching back to another stone wall, which lies perpendicular to the Cove.  They run into Natsuya and Nao pacing the shore, with Natsuya taking their run-in as a convenient (albeit unsolicited) opportunity to explain “the paramount and perilous duties” of a beach patroller. 

“Our job may look like some kind of glorified litter patrol, but let me assure you, we are _far_ more…” Natsuya begins.  His tangent seems almost endless as he delves into the minutiae of security profiling and the proper method of issuing beach tags, and Nao stands by with a supportive smile until Natusya finishes before diving into the cliff-notes.

“Essentially, we provide security for the beach and Cove by keeping an eye on all the tourists and regular beach-goers who come here,” Nao explains. “It’s a time-consuming job for sure, but our beach isn’t nearly as popular as Iwatobi South or East.  Most of the water-sport action is around East, since they have fewer cliffs and rocks to offset the incoming waves.”  Natsuya looks slightly peeved at this simplification, but it appears that there is very little that can dampen the adoring smile that lights up his features whenever he looks at Nao.  Unlike Aki and Nii, no third party is needed to state the obvious.

“Iwatobi South is busy too, but more in the mercantile sense,” Natsuya adds. “One of Iwatobi’s biggest harbors is there—in fact, it’s just on the other side of the jetty.  Kisumi has Sousuke working there most of the time, just to get a feel for how business is going.  It helps us keep on top of any rumors about the Cove, too.”

Nao seems to note Makoto’s look of pure confusion before it can fully register, and smiles.

“Sousuke is another employee here,” he explains. “You’ll meet him soon.  I’m sure our discussion about our… shall we say, familial connections is still fresh in your mind?” Makoto slowly nods, prompting him to continue. “Sousuke’s mother is Eulimene, the goddess of safe harborage.  With everything we do here, it’s important to have eyes and ears as far as we can afford to have them.”

A growing knot of worry settles in Makoto’s chest at the ominous implications of Nao’s words, and his gaze pans around his four acquaintances before settling back to Nao. 

“But… don’t you guys just manage the beach?  And the Cove of course, but I mean… why do you need to have people working at the next beach over?“ The collective breadth of the conversation seems to tighten, with grim expressions spreading from face to face like a chain reaction.  Before Makoto can ask anything else, Natsuya breaks the silence.

“This part of the coastline,” he begins, “you could consider it a hubbub, of sorts.  But I don’t mean for tourists.”

By the looks currently being exchanged by Aki and Nii, Makoto is absolutely positive that he has no desire for Natsuya to fulfill the tension lingering behind the inevitable “but,” yet the reminder of his current state of memory—or lack thereof—leaves him in no position to protest.

“Centuries ago,” Natsuya continues, “there was a disturbance among the gods of the water—a power struggle, if you will.  As you well may know, the sea gods and goddesses are not the only deities, by any means, that have dominion over the water.  There are other groups: the Naiads, the Hydriads, the Heleionomai, the Pegaiai, and many more, who mostly have control over fresh water in its various forms.

These names jog no memories, and instead leave Makoto’s mind partially reeling—though he does his best to keep a straight face.

“The tension had existed for eons—or so it seemed—until conflict finally broke out.  Sides were taken, and vicious fights broke out, turning the forests and shores into nothing short of a war zone.” He shudders, as if recalling the heat of battle himself.

“Wait… do you mean—were you all there for this?  I mean, are you all, like, immortal? Er—“ Makoto nearly swallows his tongue in the labor of asking the question, suddenly unsure whether or not asking about someone’s mortality was a socially acceptable thing to do.  Wide-eyed expressions temporarily incapacitate the four, but the somber cloud hovering amidst the conversation refrains anyone from breaking into laughter.

“That’s a bit difficult to explain,” Nao answers gently, “but the short answer is no.  None of us were witness to any of these events, aside from Kisumi, of course.”

“Yes,” Natsuya agrees. “Kisumi was only a bystander to the conflict, but quite active when the ‘peace treaties’ of sorts were signed.  There was really no civil ending, aside from threats from Zeus to smite their homes to smithereens should any kind of war continue.” He sighs, exhaling slowly to collect his thoughts. “The Goddess of Love herself, Aphrodite, was a big proponent of the treaty, having been born from the waves and whatnot.  One condition was that several ‘stations’ were to be made, to keep an eye on all relations between the water nymphs.  And hence… Cythera’s Cove was created.”

Makoto struggles to let the story sink into reality.  If he’s being honest, which is hard not to be given the present circumstances, Natsuya’s explanation sounds like a legend more than anything else.  Yet how can he doubt a word of it, after everything he’s seen and heard in a mere handful of hours?  Having only his name and the clothes on his back as his own, could he doubt any of what’s been told to him in good faith?

“Why Cythera’s Cove?” he asks.  It’s the least-pressing question in his mind at the moment, yet it manages to squeeze its way past his lips.  Natsuya nods, as if expecting the question.

“Aphrodite was created—er, _born_ , on an island near Greece named Cythera. Since she’s always had a soft spot for the place, she wanted it to be put in the name, too,” he replies.

“So, um… why isn’t Aphrodite running the Cove, then?” Makoto asks.  Full-blown laughter now erupts from the group, even Nao, who finds himself unable to stifle a chuckle.

“That’s where the long answer to your other question comes in,” Nao says with a smile. “Aphrodite is a rather prominent Olympian, and simply has no time for desk work such as this.  Because she felt so personally invested in ensuring the ceasefire between the water nymphs, she placed her son in command.  Kisumi’s been in charge ever since.”

“But having a building in the middle of a shoreline purely for surveillance was too inconspicuous,” Aki adds. “So Kisumi decided to make the whole operation a little less obvious by turning the beach into a business!”

“That’s where we come in.” Nii chimes in. “Kisumi hires certain people from a certain family tree to handle the majority of the Cove’s affairs, while he does… whatever it is he does in his office.  We all sorta ended up here in different ways, but since we’re helping Kisumi out with an eternal task… eternity kinda comes with the employment benefits.” Her words hit Makoto like a ton of bricks, and he’s certain that his gaping jaw is doing most of the speaking for him.

“W-wait.  So you’re saying… so you really are…”

“As long as we are employed at the Cove, we’re immortal,” Aki affirms, as if no part of her statement sounds absolutely and completely ludicrous.

But he just saw two perfectly ordinary-looking people controlling _waves,_ so perhaps he’s just in need of a perspective change.

“So everyone here… is related to the gods?  Seriously?” He struggles to keep the incredulity from his voice, but desperately fails.

“That’s what we’ve been saying,” Nii answers, a smirk tugging a corner of her lips.

“My mom’s Psmathe, the goddess of sand,” Natsuya states.  A sense of pride puffs and heightens his features, which elicits a giggle from Aki.

“He can make a _wicked_ sandcastle,” she whispers to Makoto.  Natsuya bristles in mild irritation, clearly to privy to what she’s just uttered.

“ _I’ll have you know that sandcastles are at the bottom of my work resume, you—“_ Nao’s arm serves as a blockade to Natsuya’s partial rampage, prompting more laughter from Aki and Nii.

“His little brother comes from the same bloodline,” Nao explains, while Natsuya struggles to unruffle his own feathers, “but you probably won’t see him around very much.  He likes to hang around the docks with Sousuke.”

Makoto nods, before realizing that Nao is the only one among them who hasn’t shared their heritage.

“If you don’t mind my asking…”

“I’m the son of Pronoe, the goddess of forethought,” Nao replies, as if reading Makoto’s mind. “Though I didn’t use any of my abilities to deduce your question just now—it was a rather obvious one, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“You’re right,” Makoto admits, chuckling to himself. “So, are your parents both considered sea goddesses?  I don’t mean that as an insult or anything, I just—“ Nao regards his flustered ramble with a kind smile, and holds up a hand to quell his worries.

“Most of us are connected to the sea in one way or another,” Nao replies. “Though that alone isn’t a requirement of working at the Cove.  Although not physical elements of the ocean itself, sand and the concept of forethought have played great roles in the history of the sea.” Makoto finds himself perpetually nodding, and he turns to Aki as she interjects.

“Remember when I was explaining that my mom was a Nereid?” Aki questions. “That term essentially functions as a classification for fifty different sea goddesses all descended from the same parents.  Rin, Gou, Natsuya, Nao, and Nagisa too—all of their parents are also Nereids.  There’s a lot of us!” She chuckles at this admission before turning back to Natsuya and Nao.

“It’s been great getting to speak with you more,” Natsuya says, “but Nao and I should really finish up our evaluation for the afternoon before the high tide comes in.”

“In other words, they’re just going to make out behind the rocks,” Nii mutters, sticking her tongue out when Natsuya regards her with a look of righteous indignation.

“ _Excuse_ me, we will—“The beginnings of his exclamation are subdued once more by Nao.

“Be on our way,” Nao supplements. “I’m sure we’ll see you back at the Cove.  Besides, I believe we’ll be neighbors!” He tosses a wink in Makoto’s direction while extending an arm around Natsuya’s waist, despite being a full head shorter.

“On _that_ note,” Aki laughs, “let’s show you where you’ll be staying.”

 

* * *

There’s a certain level of risk in leaving the Cove this early in the afternoon, a fact of which Gou is well-aware—yet nothing can compare to the brief rush of exhilaration that pulses through her whole being as she slips out the back door wholly unnoticed.  Being a Sunday, the usual rush has been slightly short of nonexistent, thanks to Kisumi’s amendment that Iwatobi West should be closed to visitors at least once a week, to provide a break for the staff.  That rule really only seems to benefit the lifeguards, who are only required to come in when they’re on-duty; nevertheless, the day remains slow for the full-time staff, leaving only menial housekeeping to keep them busy.

Gou’s official title is something along the lines of “Security Officer,” but scarcely anyone has come along who ever really served much of a threat.  Any drunkards, few and far between as they come, are handled almost immediately by Nii, and anyone else with even the slightest unsavory look about them is dealt with swiftly by Natsuya.  Gou can’t count the number of times Kisumi has promised to intervene should a “serious danger” ever threaten the Cove, but the likelihood of that scores about equal to Rin being kind-spirited and responsive during Sousuke’s extended absences.

And judging by the way he’d been sulking over an empty beer can when she’d left him alone in the Cove, that’s not very likely.

She’s lost count of the number of hissy fits that her brother has thrown in the year and half he and Sousuke have been dating.  Sometimes, it feels like no time has passed when Sousuke returns from the harbor, sitting with Rin by the fire pit out back as they snuggle over a glass of one of Nii’s mystery cocktails, staying out there until everyone has left for the night.  Seeing them together has always brought Gou some level of comfort—Sousuke’s a cool dish of water to Rin’s flame, the only anchor that can withstand the tempest that Rin seems to invoke almost constantly.  It’s the days that keep Sousuke at the piers for long hours where she’s reminded how torrential that storm can become.

The daily routine of shifting the tides seems to be one of the only times where Rin appears completely at ease, aside from the moments where he’s completely ensconced in Sousuke’s arms.  The waves seem to provide an embrace of their own, carrying him to an untouchable realm of comfort that feels impossibly out of Gou’s reach.  As unified as their bloodline makes them in the face of the surging tides, she cannot help but feel as though her brother drifts further and further away with each passing day.

But then again, she figures she’s just as much to blame, when it comes down to it.  For all of his moodiness, Rin is steadfast, reliable, loyal—everything she isn’t, she realizes as she slinks past the fire pit through the back gate, ducking beneath the low-hanging live oak branches now swollen with leaves in the midst of the summer heat.  She wasn’t originally planning to make such an escapade today, but Makoto’s sudden appearance has provided a more than ample enough window of time for her slip away, now that she has a temporary reprieve from Aki and Nii’s inevitable line of  overzealous questions.

The lull of the ocean fades as she climbs upwards, pushing through thickets of brambles and vines as she scales the incline that slopes to connect the Cove with the adjourning forest.  Loamy silt intertwines with thick, almost immortal tree roots, catching on Gou’s bare feet several times as she darts from grove to grove, slightly nicking her arms and legs on prickly thickets of holly as she pursues the heart of the woods.

A clearing finally comes into view, featuring a pile of stones stacked haphazardly atop of one another like slabs.  To the naked eye, this rock formation is primitive, nothing more than a hapless geological landmark carved by the ages of time itself.  Gou knows this to be true—but she also knows it to be so much more as she hops over the ledge, peering into the expansive opening that remains hidden to most who pass by.

After a quick, precautionary glance over her shoulder, she slides down, gripping the rough outcroppings with every ounce of her strength as she levels herself downwards to the weathered stone floor.  Sparse rays of light trickle from the opening above, illuminating the crystalline pool that lies below.  Gou crouches, slowly sliding her legs into the edge of the water, pausing as a decidedly calm voice echoes through the chamber.

“You’re early.”

She emerges from a circle of light, her teal eyes searching Gou’s crimson in quiet greeting.  Thick, auburn hair lies on the crown of her head, drawn into an impeccable bun—something Gou seems more than happy to ignore as she jumps from the water, dashing along the edge until making a running leap towards the woman, latching around her neck as they both tumble into the pool below.  A splash seems uncharacteristic within this hidden place, though neither woman seems to care as they break the surface, their warm laughs echoing against the cool cave walls.

“I had some free time today,” Gou remarks. “Random shit at the Cove, and whatnot.” Worry creases the woman’s forehead.

“Does Eros know that you’re here?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re so formal, Hana,” Gou laughs. “ _Kisumi_ doesn’t know that I’m here.  No one does.  Rin’s just sitting around waiting for Sousuke, and everyone is distracted with some guy that washed up on the beach this morning.” Hana arches an eyebrow at this, though it appears Gou’s words have done little to nothing in satiating her worries.

“Someone washed up on the beach?  Are they—“

“We don’t know anything about them,” Gou interjects calmly, “and even if we did, it would be absolutely _nothing_ that you’d have to worry about.” She cocks her head, nestling into the crest of Hana’s neck.  Hana seems to relax slightly at this, but tension arches through her as she holds a languid Gou in her arms.

“I just…” Her voice is nothing more than a murmur, breaking before Gou can hear. “We can’t risk anyone finding out about this.  About _us,_ I mean.  I can’t even imagine…” Her voice trails off and Gou wriggles out of her arms, stunning Hana into silence as she crushes the girl’s lips against her own.  It only takes about two milliseconds for Hana to succumb entirely, fully surrendering herself to the swell of Gou’s passion against her own.  They remain like this for either five seconds or five minutes—Hana has no desire to put any of it into numbers, lest it somehow ends up shortening the little time they seem to have together.

“I love you, Hanamura,” Gou whispers, breathless, “and that’s all that will ever matter.”

They melt into an embrace, an unspoken promise surging from one heart to the other.

 

* * *

 

Beyond yet another low-lying stone wall, a series of small, rundown beach houses line the shoreline where the sand meets sparse dune grass.  The paint jobs and shingle work look good enough, Makoto supposes, but he can’t help but wonder what keeps the buildings from crumbling to a pile of drift wood the second a storm hits.

The homes, as it turns out, were purchased by Kisumi somewhere down the line when he’d first started managing the Cove.  His intentions were for the stretch of buildings to be renovated—not by himself, of course—but to be polished to some sort livable degree that would potentially attract tourists to staying around for the summer.  Unfortunately, no coat of paint or re-sealed roof would prove acceptable enough to the fairly stingy housing market, leaving Kisumi to eventually leave the properties to his employees.

There are five beach houses in total, each spanning about ten feet apart from one another, and set about twenty feet behind the wall.  According to Aki and Nii, Kisumi’s never been too picky about who stays where, as long as they “don’t do anything he wouldn’t do.”  Makoto doesn’t want to even imagine what this means, and is more than content to have Aki and Nii provide him with the lay of the land.

“There’s about two bedrooms in each place,” Nii explains, “and some places have a couch bed.  I’m sure you’ve already figured this out by now, but most of us are _very_ comfortable with sharing.” Aki blushes at this, recovering as she continues the explanation.  Resting one arm on Nii’s shoulder, she extends the other to point at the house on the far right, lying closest to the beach entrance.

“That’s Natsuya and Nao’s place,” Aki says. “Ikuya, Natsuya’s little brother, stays there, too.  But not in the same room, or anything!” She’s quick to clarify as Makoto pales slightly, before Nii takes over, pointing to the next house.

“Rin and Sousuke live there,” she explains. “Their house can get a little… loud, at times.  You learn to just get used to it.” She smirks before gesturing to the center-most house. “Aki and I stay here.  Gou, too.  She used to live about a block away when she shared an apartment with her ex, Seijuro—he’s one of the lifeguards here.  But life goes on, and we had an extra bed, so…” She pauses, looking to Aki for support.

“Nagisa stays there,” Aki explains, abruptly transitioning as she points to the second-to-last building. “Some of our part-timers crash there—Rei, especially.  I’m sure you’ll meet him at some point this week.  Kisumi crashes there sometimes, on the rare occasion he’s not staying at his ‘party mansion’ up on the cliff, or whatever he calls it.” Makoto nods, his eyes growing fixed on the final house.  While identical in size and shape, it somehow feels more isolated than the others, leaving him with an aching chill of loneliness that settles in his bones.

“Who lives there?” Makoto asks, pointing to the rather desolate abode.  Aki answers in turn by grasping his wrist, leading him up splintering porch steps to the front door, which has peeled and faded from a crisp cerulean to a dusty periwinkle.

“You do,” she answers, “and Haru, too.”

The same sounds familiar, like a distant memory he can’t quite call into view.

“Have I met him yet?” Makoto inquires, upturned brows furrowing at an attempted recollection.

“In a way,” Aki replies.  The smallest of smiles buds on her lips, and she gestures to the door knob. “He’s the one who saved you this morning.”

Makoto can barely hear over the sudden rush of blood that’s pounding in his ears.  The encounter outside of the Cove plays on repeat through his mind, rewinding and fast-forwarding at blinding speed.  Aki bids him farewell, interlacing fingers with Nii as they head to the beach, presumably towards the Cove.  By some miracle, he’s able to look forward again, shifting his frozen limbs into gear to open the door, slowly stepping inside his new home.

Clear blue eyes greet him from the entryway, and for a moment, Makoto wonders if he’s drowning again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

**Author's Note:**

> Since there were a bunch of mythology terms interspersed throughout that chapter, I wanted to take the time to provide some quick reviews/definitions to prevent any confusion! (I'm abridging several definitions from theoi.com -- it's a great resource for quick mythology searches!)
> 
>   * Nymphs: This term encompasses all nature goddesses.  For the sake of this fic, I'm focusing on the sea & fresh-water nymphs for most of the mythos.
>   * Nereids: This refers to the fifty sea-nymph daughters of Nereus--there are a  _lot_ of different Nereids mentioned, so I plan on making a glossary to make each character's heritage easier to remember!
>   * Naiads: A general category for most freshwater nymphs (rivers, lakes, etc.)
>   * Hydriads: Essentially another term for naiads
>   * Pegaiai: A term for naiads specific to springs
>   * Heleionomai: A term for naiads specific to marshes
> 

> 
> Now, for the sentimental part.
> 
> My eternal thanks goes to thiccsans ([tumblr](https://thiccsans.tumblr.com)|[twitter](https://twitter.com/chilidoggos)) for always supporting me through my writing breakdowns, and just for being the absolute best beta a girl could ask for. ♥  I love you so much, and I owe my sanity (and my drive to keep going) to you.
> 
> Finally, I owe the biggest hug ever to Beth ([tumblr](https://macbetha.tumblr.com)|[twitter](https://twitter.com/ohmacbetha)), the author of two absolutely incredible Free! fics (check them out @macbetha on ao3, they are phenominal).  I forget if it was May or June where I stumbled across some fanart that led my to one of your works--whichever one it was, it irreversibly transformed my summer for the better.  I can't remember the last time I was so transfixed by someone's work, the last time  _anything_ __moved me so much.  Reading your work was absolutely electrifying, and it reminded me why I've always wanted to write in the first place.  I sincerely apologize if some aspects of this fic seem a bit reflective of your own--in all honesty, your fics are what fueled me to put the ideas I had for this story into coherent form.  I wish I knew how to say how deeply your writing and friendship have impacted me for the better, but I don't believe there are words that would do my feelings justice.  Thank you for your talent, and for being an inspiration.  In some respects, I feel that I owe this entire fic to you. ♥


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